A Hellmouth was fully under construction, and the Nexus Point was just
a byproduct of the construction. Demonic construction workers had to get to and
from work somehow. They didn’t sleep at the worksite. Their worker’s labor
union had strict policy rules about such behavior and actions, just like Humans
had in their own such unions. So the workers crossed over from one dimension to
another routinely as shifts ended, and as materials were delivered and debris
hauled away. They weren’t waiting for a naturally occurring Hellmouth to form.
They were building an artificial one with the latest in construction
techniques, combining the latest in Science and Sorcery to make the best one
that could be built. Under orders from a Mystical Entity, who you could say
belonged to the “Evil Party”, both politically and theologically. He had come
to power once a lot of the competition had been wiped out in the so-called “War
of the Gods”. He had humble enough origins though.

He was a Human born in a Southern State, who lived in Segregation. He
was raised by parents who were members of their local chapter of “The Golden
Knights of the Klu Klux Klan”, or “KKK” for short. As a teenager he had
traveled to learn about what a man named “Adolf Hitler” was doing. He became a
member of the so-called “Hitler Youth”, a program that had replaced the German
Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts programs that had been founded in the U.S.A. and
imported from there to Germany many years ago. He had been so impressed that he
decided to stay in Germany, forfeiting his American Citizenship, and becoming a
naturalized German Citizen after a lot of paperwork. Then when World War II
began, he was old enough to join the “SS”. He had an aptitude for geology and
geography, et al, and was given the mission to collect certain alleged
artifacts. He fulfilled his duties quite well, and while he was at it, he was
teaching himself to become a Sorcerer with the items he found, that weren’t
requested by higher ups.

He has improved steadily over the decades. Now Bubba Jones-Smith was a
very powerful Sorcerer compared to some he had known since his youth. He had
invested wisely and he had a fortune too. A fortune he was using to pay for his
own personal, luxury, artificial Hellmouth. Of course he had switched from
being a “White Christian Supremist” to just being “Evil” in general. Or else he
wouldn’t have as many Evil followers as he had working for him, and with him.
He didn’t like “Bubba” jokes, since he wasn’t a homosexual or even an
omnisexual. But he did appreciate “Hubba-Bubba ™ Bubblegum”, to which he had an
oral addiction for or to. He was visiting the construction site today, and he
had his usual mouth full of the gum, punctuating his sentences with bubble
bursts.

He didn’t want any smoking materials, or food wrappers, or other junk
and trash left behind, to ruin his construction materials. Nothing was allowed
to be disposed of by mixing it in with the concrete or other materials. To save
money, he demanded recycling too. Sure he was evil, but that didn’t mean he was
all bad! He could be smart enough! But if good people could err, so could bad
people. When they did though, the punishments definitely fell into what good
people thought of as “cruel and unusual”. Whenever Bubba had to punish someone,
he could become his own worst enemy!

Just when you are about to conclude that Bubba was about to cause some
major trouble for himself while punishing one of his underlings, you remember
that no one has done anything wrong just yet. Now you’re expecting a narrative
about some underling making a mistake. Instead we are going to do something
completely different. Don’t worry; there won’t be an ugly, hairy, naked, man
playing a piano involved! Meanwhile, there’s another subplot or story thread to
deal with instead.

The missing space shuttlecraft had been found! After blasting off from
California on its way to dock with the Space
Station San Francisco in orbit above, there had been a hijacking. The crew
diverted from their planned course, disappearing from all tracking station
monitors thanks to the use of Magic. (I wonder! Is the superheroine Magic
getting tired of “hearing” her name yet?! Hmm.) It wasn’t the crew’s fault
though. A pupil attending classes at a private boarding school where the
“Mystic Arts” were taught was practicing with his newly acquired Magic Wand.

He had a computer in his shared room, and he was on-line watching the
Webcast coverage of the space flight of “American
Eagle Airlines Flight 22”. He thought having a static-display model of it
would be a nice decoration for his dormitory room. Since he didn’t have the
money to spend on such luxuries, he thought that he could make one with the use
of some applied Magic.

He thought this would be good practice for Wand Waving. So the little,
young lad by the name of, William Baskerville, no middle initial or name, but
given the nickname of “Hound”, in reference to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works,
began to wave his special tool about. Hound also began to speak proper Latin,
something he had no problems with. He found the subject to be very easy to
learn!

Hound then had a static-display model of the spacecraft! Ta-dah! He was
so happy! He jumped for joy, not noticing the urgent voices of the newscasters
covering the event. He grabbed his new toy, and began to play with it. Then he
remembered the computer. He disconnected from the World Wide Web, and shut off
the computer. Why watch, when he could play? With his Magic Wand in one hand,
and his toy rocketship in the other, Hound ran around in circles, making rocket
noises with his mouth, and pretending to be the voices of flight control and
mission control, and the pilots, and crew. Then he winded somewhat, and he
placed his new toy on a shelf above his desk.

If he could do that with his Magic Wand, what else could he do? This
became his impetus to study. Could he turn his novelty item, gimmick “X-Ray
Specs™” into actual working ones? Could he protect himself from bullies? He had
a lot of ideas!

Hound, he began flicking though the pages of his textbooks. Looking for
spells he liked, rather than the ones that had been assigned for him to be
studying now. But then he remembered if wishful thinking worked once before for
him, could it work again for him? Or was it just pure Dumb Luck that he hadn’t
killed himself or something else bad like that?

Then he looked at his new toy rocket again. Wouldn’t it be cool if he
could ride on the real thing? Then he remembered the news coverage! He quickly
turned his computer back on, got back on-line, and tuned in to the Webcast.
When he learned of the bad news, he was heartbroken. Then they repeated the
sequence of events, with a second-by-second, minute-to-minute, frame-by-frame,
examination and an explanation of what was being shown. Then something silly
occurred to him! Could he have been the one to make the shuttlecraft vanish? He
grabbed a magnification lens from his desk drawer.

He gently balanced himself on his desk, and then with the lens he began
to examine the model or toy. He smelled something too. The rocket exhaust
nozzle cones smelled like there had been real flames and fumes coming from it!
Peering through the tiny portholes, he saw tiny people inside it! Were they
still alive?

He wondered that as he recalled his wild playing session, thinking if
that they could have went from beyond just being dizzy and into becoming,
smashing bodies, even if they were still strapped to their seats. The extra
g-forces he must have inflicted on them all!

Some small part of him knew that he should get an adult to help him.
But the rest of him was too scared to get himself into trouble! So like a bad
boy, he opted to try and undo his own Spell that had turned from purely
innocent, into terrible mischief. He took the spacecraft from the desk shelf,
and placed it in the center of the largest empty floor space in his room. Where
it had all began. He began to try to place himself into that state of mind. The
one that knew Latin, Spellcasting, and Wishful Thinking.

He was startled out of his concentration when all of the entrance doors
and exit doors to the room burst inwards, followed by lots of adults storming
into the room from each one. There was a mixture of Special Agents from the
well known, lesser known and unknown government agencies. They had traced the
signal at last, to this location. This was bad news for the school whose
location had been kept well secret until now.

Before Hound could drop his Magic Wand out of sheer fright, he was
tackled to the floor! The tool was snatched out of his relatively tiny grasp,
and he was readily grabbed by his shoulders and stood upright, and then he got
a brisk frisking of all of his pockets, the contents of which where then pulled
out and spread on his bed. This happened very fast from his point of view. He
had never been through such an incident before. He had never been tackled
before, having never played a game of football. Nor had he ever wrestled. He
had never played “Twister™” either. He had never been with a girl and made out
with her. So he had a full range of mixed emotions when it came to being
manhandled in such a rough manner!

Head Master Westwood, looked down at Hound as he said, “Well, ‘Punk’!
Do you believe in Magic? Do you, ‘Punk’?!” with no sympathy in his voice. Hound
had been a Non-Believer. But his parents had insisted he get a Magical
Education anyway. Hound had been trying to rationalize everything he had seen,
while he was in public. But apparently in private, he had been behaving
differently. As was shown by the evidence.